The Ashiel Mystery | Page 8

to reach land; but, as far as she could see,
what land it was they reached was a matter of indifference to them. No
doubt, she thought, when the ship stopped and they felt better, they
would be more disposed to a sentimentality like hers.
She found her maid--who had been one of the most sea-sick of those

aboard--and assisted her ashore, put her into a carriage and ministered
to her wants with the help of a tea-basket containing the delicious
novelty of English bread and butter. In half an hour's time they were
steaming hurriedly towards London. She was to lodge at a small hotel
in Jermyn Street; and on that first evening even this seemed perfect to
her. The badness of the cooking was a thing she refused to notice; and
the astonishing hills and valleys of the bed caused in her no sensation
beyond that of surprise. She was young, strong and healthy, and there
was no reason that trifling discomforts of this kind should affect her
enjoyment. To the shortcomings of the bed, indeed, she shut her eyes in
more senses than one, for she was asleep three minutes after her head
touched the pillow, nor did she wake till her maid roused her the next
morning.
She got up at once and looked out of the window. It was a fine day
again; over the roofs of the houses opposite she could see a blue streak
of sky. Already the air had lost the touch of freshness which comes,
even to London in August, during the first hours of the morning; and
the heat in the low-ceilinged room on the third floor which Juliet
occupied for the sake of economy, was oppressive in spite of the small
sash windows being opened to their utmost capacity. But Juliet only
laughed to herself with pleasure at the brilliancy of the day. She felt
that the weather was playing up to the occasion, as became this
important morning of her life. For that it was important she did not
doubt. She was going to hear tremendous news that day; make
wonderful discoveries about her birth; hear undreamt-of things. Of this
she felt absolutely convinced, and it would not have astonished her to
find herself claimed as daughter by any of the reigning families of
Europe. She was prepared for anything, or so she said to herself,
however astounding; and, that being so, she was excited in proportion.
Anyone could have told her that, by this attitude of mind towards the
future, she was laying up for herself disappointment at the least, if not
the bitterest disillusions; but there was no one to throw cold water on
her hopes, and she filled the air with castles of every style of
architecture that her fancy suggested, without any hindrance from
doubt or misgiving.

She dressed quickly, in the gayest humour, but with even more care
than she usually bestowed upon her appearance; a subject to which she
always gave the fullest attention.
"Which dress will Mademoiselle wear?" the maid asked her.
"Why, my prettiest, naturally," she replied.
"What, the white one that Mademoiselle wore for the marriage of
Monsieur, her papa?" inquired Thérèse, scandalized at the idea of such
a precious garment being put on before breakfast.
"That very one," Juliet assured her, undaunted; and was arrayed in it, in
spite of obvious disapproval.
After breakfast they went out, and, inquiring their way to Bond Street,
flattened their noses against the shop windows to their mutual
satisfaction.
They had it almost to themselves, for there were not many people left
in that part of London; but more than one head was turned to gaze at
the pretty girl in the garden-party dress, who stood transfixed before
shop after shop. This amusement lasted till half-past eleven, when they
returned to the hotel for Juliet to give the final pats to her hair, and to
retilt her hat to an angle possibly more becoming, before she started to
keep her appointment with the solicitors. The next twenty minutes were
spent in cross-examining the hotel porter as to the time it would take to
drive to her destination, and, having decided to start at ten minutes to
twelve, in wondering whether the quarter of an hour which had still to
elapse would ever come to an end.
At three minutes to twelve she rang the bell of the office of Messrs.
Findlay & Ince.
CHAPTER III
A gloomy little clerk climbed down from a high stool where he sat
writing, and opened the door.

"Oh yes, Miss Juliet Byrne," he said when Juliet had told him her name.
"Mr. Findlay is expecting you. Will you walk upstairs, Miss Byrne,
please. I think you have an appointment for twelve o'clock? This way,
if you please."
He led